Each administers its own standard of order. There are people who never have enough. For them, this is not a one-time obsession, but an eternal obsession. They believe that everything around them has its own place, and they spend their lives missing the fact that they don’t occupy that place, instead of missing Gil de Biedma, who knows. I don’t want to give the impression that I like or care about being right, but this stubbornness to maintain order leads to a certain servitude both to oneself and to those who would act by their own standards, even those who would act by their own standards. a complete lack of standards, sometimes relying on chaos to do things, for example because it brings good luck.
It’s easy to get caught up in the desire for order. He always looks comfortable. Mirages, no doubt. On one of those terrible days we all experience, which don’t seem bad at all but are much worse, we look up and feel like everything around us is collapsing due to lack of order. This is very common. But then – I say again, without wanting to be right – it is better to pretend that nothing has happened, because life has never been otherwise, that is, messy, and living together is as much more bearable as when the new gives way. Among the old things, unlike the things, the place changes.
Two or three times a year I feel a general fever to see that everything is so orderly. Even if it’s just at my desk. Fortunately, the rest of the time (three hundred and fifty-odd days) the table can be filled with books, cables, notebooks, coins, pens and scraps of paper. With the thought that maybe the safest place for a fly is a fly trap, I learned to live for a long time by leaving only a narrow space for the computer and my arms. But then occasionally there are days when you go crazy and the chaos makes you want to cry. It happened to me this weekend. I flattened the desk until only the computer remained on it. But Tuesday came and the natural, hypnotic and appropriate disorder was already established.